Wearing Dead People's Clothes

 

          For someone who hates to pay full price for anything, our little town in Florida can be a breath of fresh air. Not only is there a TJ Max/Homegoods right up the road, the place is blanketed in consignment shops. Understandable when you stop to realize that Florida is often God’s waiting room and entire households are emptied when the occupant passes to her next destination.

          I’ve been looking for a box. One of our lamps is actually too low to be of use for reading on the couch. I thought that if I found a snazzy – but cheap! – box to put it on, that would be the solution.

          Off I went to the Goodwill store, which sits in a broken-down plaza whose parking lot has potholes able to consume your entire car. Plenty of clothes, muffin tins, picture frames, and everything else you can imagine, but not a box to suit my needs.   

 

      

  

Two doors down past a barber shop, and then a dance studio, the animal rescue’s consignment shop. Again, no box I wanted, but if it’s a walker or wheelchair you’re looking for, you’re in business.

          Then I couldn’t help myself and went one more shop down. Fifi’s. No boxes, but women’s consignment galore. All top brands, few things more than $35 (and always even 10% under their price) and if it’s been there more than a month the item is half price.

          A clever person (Fifi?) groups all clothes on the racks first by size, then by color, so it’s even pretty there – a swath of blue followed by yellow, followed by pinks. Fifi must be doing well because there are at least two more of these shops in the area.

          I sailed out victorious, two shirts – both ½ off - stashed in my bag and with a $1.50 credit to my next visit. Again, Fifi’s no dummy. One of the shirts (Talbot’s, no less) still had its store price tag on it, so either the previous owner wore it with the cardboard tag still attached, or it was essentially brand new. The other, well  . . . .